


don't be nice, please

by mochis



Series: play date [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Dubious Consent, Katana, Knifeplay, M/M, Military Uniforms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Smut, Tattoos, super slight tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 20:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9786767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochis/pseuds/mochis
Summary: He isn't Kiku in the slightest— he's all demands equipped with a sharp tongue. He's fire where Kiku is ice. He's mean where Kiku is nice.Maybe mean isn't so bad, though.





	

**Author's Note:**

> happy late valentine's day!  
> not sure how this idea came up, but here we are.

Alfred isn’t sure how he ended up tied and bound to the bed frame, blue eyes blown wide and staring up at a pair of familiar yet unknown red eyes, but he can’t find the words to complain. 

He  _ had  _ noticed something different when he arrived at his and Kiku’s shared apartment, but decided to think nothing of the way Kiku’s eyes glinted a different color. When he pulled him into an embrace, the shorter man instantly stiffened, yet did not make a move to push him away. 

Instead, he offered the blonde a cup of tea, but didn’t touch his own cup. 

Even when Alfred feels his eyelids becoming heavier and heavier he does not think of it and figures he is just aching for a nap. The last thing he remembers before the room begins spinning into black was dropping the cup of tea, hearing the glass shatter and a frustrated click of a tongue.

Alfred’s body feels heavy when he wakes, and he finds that he cannot move his arms. Panic sets in when he sees that they are bound above his head, tied together by a thick, red rope to the bed frame. His legs are free, but there isn’t much he can do but wriggle and struggle against the - surprisingly strong - rope keeping him to his own bed. His bedroom his dark, save for the moonlight silently seeping into the room, and Alfred’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest when he sees a pair of bright, ruby red eyes meet his. 

The figure stands, and the blonde recognizes him to be Kiku - but something is different. He doesn’t remember Kiku owning a black Imperial Navy Uniform, or a pair of white gloves. The medals twinkle against the moonlight, and there is also a sheathed katana strapped to his hip. Overall, he looks something out of the second world war, and it sends an uncomfortable feeling into the pit of Alfred’s stomach. 

“Hm.” In that one, barely audible “hm”, Alfred realizes something is wrong (finally). “So this is what my counterpart plays with. I’m not sure whether to be disappointed or not.” 

Confusion etches across his freckled face. “Um...sorry? Kiku, what’s going on? Why are you wearing that? Did you tie me up?” 

Something that borders between a snarl and a scowl crosses the other’s face, but it is brief. “You’ve an attractive face, but quite a noisy mouth,” He moves towards the bed, and Alfred draws his legs in close to himself. He isn’t sure why he feels afraid of him. “I am Kuro. Do not make the same mistake in calling me by my counterpart’s name. I am nothing like him.” He practically spits the last sentence out, his words laced with venom. 

All this talk of counterparts and names throws Alfred off even more, leaving him at a loss for words. What  _ could  _ he say in this situation? He doesn’t want to believe anything that’s happening to him at this moment in time, but with the way Kiku -  _ Kuro  _ is glowering down on him, he suddenly feels  _ very _ exposed and  _ very _ helpless. This wasn’t the man he’s come to love. If this -  _ imposter  _ thinks he can just waltz into their home and try to hurt him, then he’s got another thing coming. 

Speaking of hurting him, the question of what he’s done to Kiku crosses his mind and Alfred narrows his eyes, raising his voice. “Okay,  _ Kuro.  _ What have you done to Kiku? Where is he?”

“Unimportant,” The man sighs, frustrated. A gloved hand reaches for his katana, pulling it from its scabbard. “I’ve come for a specific purpose and I intend to go through with it.” 

The metal shines with the moonlight and, if possible, Alfred curls into himself even more, despite his bound hands. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just -”

“I can, and I will.”  His voice was almost sharper than the katana that was slowly nearing his chest. Alfred’s heart catches itself into his throat and he can’t breathe properly suddenly. Kuro was actually going to kill him in his own house, in his own  _ bed  _ with a face that looks so much like his lover’s and it’s too much for him to bear, he needs to struggle, to scream, to do  _ something  _ \- 

But then the sword’s edge doesn’t plunge into his heart or stomach. It lightly pokes at the skin near his throat, the tip dragging along his jawline and he swallows hard against the cool metal. The possibility of decapitation abruptly enters his mind, but the pressure being applied to his skin was not enough to even draw blood. It was a feather-light touch, almost as if teasing him. Testing the waters. 

Kuro’s expression has melted into one of amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you think I was going to kill you? Cut your heart out?” 

Alfred doesn’t answer, trying not to focus on the tip of the katana that was slowly travelling downwards towards his stomach. He can feel Kuro’s red eyes on him and he wants to cover himself up, somehow, even though he is fully clothed. 

“I am not here to kill you, Alfred,” The man continues, applying a bit more pressure on his belly. It isn’t too painful, but the blonde cannot help but shift uncomfortably. “That would raise too much suspicion - to think Kiku Honda would actually murder his lover in bed. No, my reasons for being here are entirely selfish.”

The katana’s tip stops just above his waistline, Alfred’s eyes going wide for a moment as he expects the worst. The sword draws back, however, and he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He doesn’t have time to be relieved, as he feels a dip in the bed and suddenly he’s peering into a set of blood red eyes, his heart beginning to hammer painfully against his chest. Kuro is hovering above him, katana set to the side, one of his legs lodged between Alfred’s to slightly spread them open. His knee is settled against his groin, but he doesn’t want to focus on that or how close he actually is; this isn’t the man he knows, the man he  _ loves  _ and it’s wrong, so there should be an explanation to the butterflies in his stomach. There should be an explanation as to why he’s not struggling against the bounds or screaming instead of remaining anxiously silent as Kuro’s lips dip closer to his ear, warm breath sending a jolt down his spine. 

“I’m going to indulge myself for a little while, and you,” He bites down on the lobe, drawing a whimper out of Alfred, “will cooperate fully. Understood?” 

He is about to nod his head when those same lips move from his ear to his neck, biting down and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. Alfred bites down on his bottom lip, angling his head to allow more access. Kuro smirks against his skin. This is too easy. 

He leaves open mouthed kisses along his jaw, stopping just before he reaches the other’s lips. Alfred squirms underneath him, itching to connect their lips, just once. Just to see what it’s like, to see if it’s like the kisses he shares with Kiku. The ruby-eyed man almost laughs, but instead moves forward to finally meet Alfred’s lips in a hungry kiss. 

Alfred is beginning to throw all common sense out of his mind and frankly, he doesn’t really care. Kuro was intoxicating. Kuro was dangerous. Kuro was not Kiku. He isn’t sure if that’s a bad thing or not because suddenly there is a tongue prodding into his mouth and he lets his eyes slip shut, forgetting why he was so frightened in the first place. There’s a familiar and delightful warmth rushing down in between his legs, but he can’t draw his legs together to stop it. He is left open and defenseless against this man and he finds that he doesn’t truly mind. 

Kuro pulls away and sits back to let his eyes roam over the man beneath him, licking his lips. He pulls the leg that’s between both of Alfred’s to instead seat himself on his lap, rolling his hips against the blonde’s teasingly. Alfred bites down on his lip once more, stifling a moan. Kuro clicks his tongue, annoyed. “Are those sounds reserved for Kiku? How _ sweet.”  _

Something about the way he bites out the word “sweet” sets Alfred on edge. He watches as Kuro reaches for the katana - which had been set on the bed besides them - and brings it to the collar of his dress shirt. “I assume you have more suits such as this one, yes?”

“Uh...yeah?” His response trails off into a question. 

The top of the katana pulls a button from the top of the shirt, then another. “Good. You will not be missing this one.” 

The buttons are completely pulled off, but Kuro does not stop there. Now that his chest and abdomen are exposed, he presses the cold metal against his warm skin, and Alfred shivers due to the sudden coolness and in anticipation. The blade is extremely sharp, and while he doesn’t feel any lacerations being made, his heart still thrills at the possibility, arching into the touch. 

The man above him chuckles darkly. “Are you hoping that I will hurt you?” 

He wants to shake his head and protest, but instead doesn’t answer, avoiding his eyes. It is answer enough for Kuro, who applies a bit more pressure as he drags the tip of the blade upwards. Alfred gasps when he feels it graze one of his nipples. “Don’t -” 

“You are in no position to be making requests.” Another flick, and the feather-light touch continues upwards to rest on the side of his throat. He feels it dig into his skin, pain blossoming with the added pressure. “Perhaps I should cut your vocal cords out.”

_ No,  _ Alfred means to say, but the word is caught by the blade. He feels it slide, letting out a low groan as he feels a warm liquid trail down the side of his neck, staining the collar of his shirt. Kuro pulls the blade back and replaces it with his lips, lapping at the blood. Alfred doesn’t stop himself from moaning. 

When he pulls back, there is still blood on his bottom lip and Alfred wants nothing more in that moment than to lean up and kiss it off. The raven-haired man rolls his hips again, purposely, against the growing bulge in Alfred’s slacks. “You are  _ quite  _ the masochist. I’m surprised.” 

Alfred stays quiet, avoiding his eyes. There’s a bright blush settled against his cheeks, the pain in his neck now a dull throb. He hopes it isn’t anything too deep or noticeable, but there is a small part of him that thrills at the scar it will leave behind. It’s different from the usual dark bruising Kiku leaves behind; this is perilous and risky, keeping him on edge. If Kuro was actually willing to cut him open without a second thought, who knows what else he might do? 

Kuro is still holding onto the katana, but his free hand is working on undoing the buckle of his belt. Alfred’s breath hitches in his throat when he feels a palm press against his clothed member, the thin fabric of his boxers creating a delicious friction. Closing his eyes, he hears a hum, but he isn’t sure if it’s of approval or disappointment. It was embarrassing enough that he was actually getting hard from getting injured, he did not need to see for himself the position he was in. Not when Kuro was rubbing him so softly, ruining the steady breathing he had just achieved. 

The man pulls the waistband of his boxers down a bit, enough to let his cock out, precome already leaking from the tip. Turns out he is anticipating more than what he’d like to admit. 

A gloved hand takes hold of him, stroking at an agonizingly slow pace. Alfred can’t help but buck into his hand, to which the man above him smirks. “How impatient,”  His hand leaves Alfred, who whimpers at the loss of contact, and he moves to hover over him once more. His voice is low, near husky next to his ear. “If you think you are the only whose needs are going to be catered to, you are mistaken.” 

Kuro moves to straddle him, forgoing the katana to instead undo the zipper to his trousers and it’s then that Alfred realizes what he means as he opens his eyes once again. Kuro’s flushed length is in front of him and he hates himself for wanting to lean forward and press his lips against it, the restraints around his wrists keeping him in place. 

He doesn’t have to wait too long before he hears a command. “Open.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, the blonde complies after licking his lips. He swirls his tongue around the head, swipes at the precome that had begun to bead at the slit. He can’t really take in much length from his position, and Kuro ever-so-kindly assists him by suddenly thrusting his hips forward, the entire length taking up his mouth. Alfred doesn’t have time to adjust to it; the man above him keeps a semi-rough pace that leaves his mind hazy and unclear. He can feel the tip of his cock reach the back of his throat with each thrust, but it isn’t too uncomfortable. Unfamiliar, yes, because up until this point his blowjobs had been sweet and as chastely simple as a blowjob could be - not sloppy and aggressive. 

Kuro, however, is near silent above him. Alfred looks up to him through askewed glasses that had been knocked over by his thrusts, baby blue meeting crimson for the briefest of moments. Even if  he  _ was _ suppressing his voice, Alfred is in no position to complain. There’s saliva dripping down his chin onto his neck and his jaw is beginning to hurt slightly from the pressure, but he’s never felt so  _ used  _ in his lifetime. It’s making his dick ache, clouding his judgement until all he can focus on is the pain and Kuro, Kuro,  _ Kuro.  _

But then he pulls out, his breathing barely wavering. There’s a faint redness to his cheeks that Alfred almosts misses, though it is fleeting as Kuro moves back, practically yanking the blonde’s slacks and boxers off. 

“W-Wait,” For the second time that night he is able to find his voice, though it comes out wrecked. He swallows hard before continuing, “Lube, it’s in the - the side table.”

Kuro doesn’t leave the bed, managing to fish out the bottle from where he straddles Alfred. He removes his gloves, unveiling porcelain skin that appear cold to touch. He squeezes out a generous amount onto his fingers. “Prepared, aren’t we?” 

His unslick hand reaches out to remove his glasses, the man before him dissolving into a blurry image. He usually doesn’t remove his glasses with Kiku, preferring to see every shiver and squirm from his lover - but now that he is practically blind, his excitement only skyrockets. 

“It isn’t like I have a choice,” His hips are being raised before a finger teases his entrance, pulling a whimper out of him. “I’m -  _ fuck _ \- tied to the bed and half naked. I’m not exactly...in control.”

“That is to say,” He pushes two fingers in and almost smiles at the strangled cry that leaves Alfred’s mouth, “ _ you _ usually are in control.” 

It takes a moment before Alfred can reply as he is a bit distracted with the way Kuro is stretching him out. “Y-Yeah, I am. Kiku isn’t very...” His voice trails off, but he wants to keep talking and assure that Kiku is more than enough for him. He can’t find the words at that moment, however. He’s too preoccupied with how Kuro is making him feel.

“I am aware. Though, it does not seem as if you mind not having power over your situation.”

A third finger is added. Alfred wants to throw his head back and moan, but bites his lip instead, hands fisted so tight that his knuckles are white. He doesn’t want to waste his energy disagreeing with the man; they both knew it was true. 

When Kuro apparently decides he’s had enough, he pulls his fingers away, the blonde groaning at the loss of contact. It’s foggy, but he’s sure he can see Kuro reaching for the katana and his cock twitches at the sight of the metal that is being raised to meet his wrists, cutting the rope that kept them bound to the bed frame. He gives him a wary look, to which Kuro clicks his tongue - again. “I know you will not try to escape, so the restraints are not needed. Unless the rope burn is another arousing factor for you.” 

Alfred rubs at his wrists, the bright red marks dully throbbing. He doesn’t think twice before reaching for the collar of Kuro’s uniform, yanking him down to meet his lips in a kiss driven by pure adrenaline and sudden hunger. If he is surprised, Kuro does not show it; instead bringing one of his hands to the back of Alfred’s neck and fisting it into the blonde locks, pulling slightly. Alfred moans at the minor painful contact before biting down on the other’s lip. 

His hands grip the fabric still on Kuro’s body. “Wanna see you,” he says between kisses, not quite begging but almost there. Surprisingly, the man complies without a click of the tongue or a snarky comment, unbuttoning the uniform and tossing it to the side, despite the several medals lined upon the cloth. 

What is revealed leaves blue eyes wide and staring in slight awe. Ink covers almost his entire torso and arms, stopping just below his collarbone and above his wrists. On both of his arms, there are identical black snakes wrapping around his both shoulders, twisting down his arms with their fangs bared. Alfred recognizes Oni masks taking up a majority of his pecs, wide eyes menacing and staring straight at the blonde. His sides are taken up by gray, swirling clouds and several red blossoms, though he knows they aren’t cherry blossoms due to their color. 

The inked skin is soft beneath his fingertips. “ _ Yakuza.” _

Kuro doesn’t answer, but it is not because he is ashamed. His silence is never full of shame. 

“Kiku doesn’t...” The words die on his tongue before he makes the comparison. He isn’t even sure why Kiku suddenly entered his mind. He changes the subject. “You’re different.” 

In an instant he is on his back, his hips raised up to meet something hot and hard as the man above him growls, “You’re just realizing that now?” 

Kuro doesn’t wait for the blonde to reply, pushing into him unsparingly and - dare Alfred say -  impatiently. Alfred throws all embarrassment out of the window as he lets his voice out, cutting through the complete silence of the room. He grips the sheets beneath him tightly before they’re suddenly raised above his head, held down by none other than the ruby-eyed asian bearing a wicked smirk. He wants to struggle, but can’t find the willpower. A part of him doesn’t want to admit that being rendered defenseless was what he wanted. Another part of him questions where Kuro had the strength to overpower him.

There’s a beat (the blonde would like to think it’s for him to become adjusted) before the asian begins moving just as mercilessly as he entered him. Despite the unfamiliar pace, Alfred doesn’t complain in the slightest - it’s  _ exciting _ and he’s hitting every one of his sweet spots all at once, the grip on his wrists growing tighter and tighter with every thrust. His eyesight is poor but he doesn’t need to see Kuro’s face to know that he’s smirking that unbearable smirk, only his breathing being affected by what’s happening. He’s much quieter than Kiku, Alfred manages to think through the haze of pleasure that’s taken over his mind. He’s rougher and considerably more intense, but still relatively quiet. 

Alfred wonders if he’s just as quiet when he comes. 

He whimpers, but whether it’s because of how phenomenal he’s being fucked or because Kuro has leaned down to suck another bruise onto his collarbone, he isn’t sure. His senses are on fire in that moment, his erection standing painfully tall, seemingly abandoned and he wants to wriggle out of the man’s grasp to at least  _ stroke  _ himself, but there isn’t any use. Kuro’s grip is like steel, constricting him just as the inky snake wrapped around his arms would, and dammit, if that didn’t make everything a bit  _ sweeter _ , than Alfred didn’t know what did. 

“You’ll look like a wreck in the morning.” Kuro’s voice is rougher, his breathing uneven. “Bruised, cut up...what will your precious Kiku think?” 

Alfred doesn’t want to think about Kiku. He wants to focus on how Kuro’s thrusts have become harsher, making him see stars. “I don’t  _ care,  _ just don’t stop -  _ ” _

His breathless laughter sends a shiver down the blonde’s spine, straight to his groin. “I didn’t think you would be this  _ easy _ .” 

Being called “easy” shouldn’t arouse him, but somehow Alfred’s voice becomes louder as the familiar build up in his gut threatens to burst. He hasn’t even been touched and he’s near the edge, but he doesn’t have time to marvel at how Kuro managed to achieve that because his mouth is suddenly being taken over by a pair of ravenous lips that demand attention. The american attempts to keep up with both the ferocity of his kiss and the vehemence of his thrusts, the room starting to spin like it did earlier that evening as he feels his bottom lip being bitten down on, hard. He’s so close, so goddamn  _ close  _ because of the redness of Kuro’s eyes and the tightness of his grip - 

Alfred wakes up. 

The ceiling is free of blemishes, so he stares at the shade of eggshell for a good thirty seconds before sitting up, realizing that he isn’t being pounded into like no tomorrow by his boyfriend’s doppelganger. The sun is bright, spilling into his bedroom and splashing over the sheets he was nestled underneath, and looking to his right, he sees that he isn’t alone. Ebony hair peeks out from under the blankets. 

His movements must have woken the other up. They shift to lie on their side which faces Alfred, blinking open a pair of sleepy, chocolate dipped eyes. 

It’s Kiku. Alfred doesn’t know whether to sigh in relief or disappointment, and immediately feels guilty. 

Kiku’s voice is laced with sleep. “Are you alright?”

The blonde calms his beating heart, takes a breath before nodding. “Yeah. Yes. Of course, I just...had a bad dream.” It’s a lie, but he can’t simply tell Kiku he had an erotic dream about fucking someone who looked just like him. 

The smaller man scrubs at an eye, sitting up to rest on his elbow. “I’m sorry. You sounded pained during the night, also.” He glances back up towards Alfred and does a double take, focusing on his neck. “Alfred, what happened there? That wasn’t there yesterday.” 

His fingertips brush the side of his neck where a gash sat, and Alfred’s stomach somersaults. 

He isn’t sure if smiling would be appropriate, but finds himself doing so, anyway. 


End file.
